


Yellow

by hitthehospital



Series: Shoes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School AU, M/M, ballet!lock, rugby!john, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9576890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitthehospital/pseuds/hitthehospital
Summary: John and Sherlock take the bus to Sherlock's dance studio.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys sorry I haven't posted in a while! Once again please tell me if there are any errors in the text! Thanks

Two boys stood together under the bus stop, the yellow-green light that tinged the air a promise of rain. The taller boy was ethereal in the glow, causing the smaller boy to stare a bit too long. The first boy noticed. The second boy looked down to the ground and toed the pavement with his hand-me-down shoes. He swallowed. John pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, the autumnal air bit his finger tips. Sherlock opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it after a moment's thought. He instead lock his gaze ahead.  
The bus crept through the traffic, its display lights just visible over a forthcoming van. John checked his bag for his wallet, half-emptying it in the quickening desperate search.  
The bus was only meters away.  
He found it lodged between two folders at the bottom of the bag.  
The bus pulled up beside them.  
John frantically counted his change. 30p short. _Fuck_.  
Sherlock, meanwhile, casually swiped a £5 note from his pocket and strode in front of John and grabbing his hand before handing the driver the fare. John's face ignited.  
"Two singles to the city centre."  
The driver looked momentarily confused until he noted the boys' hands and John's crimson cheeks. "For you and your boyfriend?" The older man asked cautiously. Sherlock just stared. The driver looked away nervously and started to type in the order with large fingers. The ticket machine whirred as it printed out the tickets, then a _shhhhhrppp_ as they were ripped from the device and handed to the strange pair.  
Sherlock walked toward the end of the bus, John's hand still in his. The blond managed a quick mumble of "he's not my boyfriend" to the driver before he was tugged along. Sherlock dragged the other boy to the second-last row, taking the window seat. He released John's hand, the lack of pressure on his palm made the blond feel empty. He dumped his satchel on the seat in front of him and rested his feet on the back of the chair. John carefully placed his rucksack in front of his feet.  
Sherlock looked out of the murky window, his leg bounced restlessly. The boy's eyes skated back and forth, back and forth across the moving scene outside.  
John trailed his eyes over Sherlock's hands. His own palm still burned from the touch. He flicked his gaze away from the other boy and toward his beat-up shoes. A soft sigh escaped his lips. _What am I doing?_  
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. John looked across the bus and met a pair of warm grey eyes. The girl tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear and smiled mischievously. John, to his surprise, grinned back. The girl laughed quietly and shook her head. John shifted his body and straightened his spine, sitting up in the old bus seat. She looked back at him for a second, before reaching into her smart leather satchel. Pulling out a pen, she scribbled on her ticket as she leant on her bare knee. John stared. With a flick of her wrist, she handed the note to him.  
The bus began to squeak to a stop. The girl rose up, swung her satchel over her shoulder, and winked at John. His eyebrows raised as she strutted off the bus.  
As the bus pulled off, John looked down at the note in his hand. Blue biro formed perfectly shaped numbers of the waxy paper in a line and an equally neat name beneath. It took him a half second to realise that it was the eleven digits of a phone number. He reread the ticket. The four letters of the name imprinted on his brain. _Mary_.  
"You can shut you mouth now, John. You look like a goldfish."  
The bitter voice knocked John out of the spell. He looked up. A scowling Sherlock looked down.  
John felt a rush of embarrassment heat his face. His stomach turned. An unsettlingly familiar emotion weighed down on him. Why do I feel guilty?  
Sherlock snatched the number off him and held it up to the window.  
"Don't bother." The brunette tossed the ticket back to John and drew his knees up to his chin, scowl still etched on his face.  
"Don't bother with what?" John frowned.  
"The note."  
"What?"  
Sherlock looked down at the ticket in John's hand. "Her writing. Look at it."  
John raised his eyebrows and turned in his seat. His fingers tapped the paper. He scrunched his nose. "Blue biro... uh... quite angular letters..." He swallowed. "I'm... I'm not sure."  
His deep blue eyes trailed to met Sherlock's ice.  
"Yes, but what does the biro say about her."  
John's brow creased. He looked back at the ticket. "Well... she took it out of her bag. I think it was out of a pencil case?"  
"A clear one - only blue pens and lead pencils."  
"Right. And it was... organised..." He thought for a second. "Isn't - isn't blue supposed to be the best colour for memory? So she's practical... and works hard - but also smart to know that. So... smart, organised, works hard... Is that right?"  
He was met with silence. John's eyes swept upwards.  
Sherlock's mouth was pulled up in a small, private smile. In a second, it was gone. The brunet blinked quickly. "I um - yes that's - that's per- right. That's right."  
John smirked slightly.  
The bus slowed and stopped. "This is our stop."  
The two boys stood.  
"You did well, but forgot some key things."  
"Do go on."  
John thanked the driver for the both of them as they stepped off the bus.  
"Well, according to Andrea McNicol's graphology handbook, the type of handwriting you have can say a lot about you as a person." Sherlock pulled out the ticket from John's coat pocket. "See the heaviness of the pen mark on the paper? It shows she can be uptight but the speed in which she wrote the note says she's impatient and dislikes delays and time wasters." The pair walked briskly down the street as Sherlock talked and John listened intently. "The narrow loop on the 'a' also implies she is skeptical of other people and doesn't want to be swayed by the emotions of them. All in all, not someone I would recommend sharing romantic entanglements with."  
John smiled. "Romantic entanglement?"  
Sherlock frowned, "yes."  
The blond laughed. "You ever been in a 'romantic entanglement?"  
"What?!"  
John chuckled awkwardly. He swallowed. "You ever had a... boyfriend then?" His heart felt like it was about to be ripped out of his chest.  
Sherlock's mouth opened and closed. He thought for a second. A soft "No" escaped his lips. The brunet looked down.  
The two boys walked in a heavy silence for the next few minutes, but to John it felt a lifetime.  
Sherlock slowed when they passed an old studio. The puddles from the night before held an image of the studio lights in it's clasp. Sherlock led John down the alley way, to a door.  
"Well, here we are." Sherlock smiled quickly.  
_Here we are_.


End file.
